*Reflection On Losing What Matters Least*
I found the key to the lock of my heart,
twas heavy, once golden,
the patina of unuse had turned it burnt-pink,
like a flamingo's wing snagged on a sunbeam.
Heart was bound-up in ages old silk
farmed from spiders raised on butterfly milk;
Lock...
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[Source: Literature Network Forums - Posted by FreeAutoBlogger]
